


Not Possessive By Nature

by ladypigswagon



Series: Tumblr Prompts [23]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypigswagon/pseuds/ladypigswagon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Frankly, some of those extras back there aren’t going to make the end credits.”</p><p>About six hunters look affronted at Stiles statement. Boyd snorts as Stiles winks at the one closest to his body type. </p><p>“Yo, you’re about my size, care to donate your jacket to the comic-relief-slash-sidekick.”</p><p>The hunter walks away, nervous eyes giving Stiles the once over. Stiles shrugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Possessive By Nature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nezstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/gifts).



> Bxdcubes said to ladypigswagon:  
> What do you think then about Boyd taking his sweet time pining after Stiles right until another wolf/a dryad/fae starts to show his interest in Stiles and all bets are off?
> 
> My first Stoyd, hope it pleases you <3

“Frankly, some of those extras back there aren’t going to make the end credits.”

 

About six hunters look affronted at Stiles statement. Boyd snorts as Stiles winks at the one closest to his body type.

 

“Yo, you’re about my size, care to donate your jacket to the comic-relief-slash-sidekick.”

 

The hunter walks away, nervous eyes giving Stiles the once over. Stiles shrugs.

 

“If you’re the comic relief,” Scott asks, “Who’s the hero?”

 

“Derek,” Isaac and Erica say simultaneously. Derek’s expression remains stony but his ears burn crimson.

 

“I don’t know,” Stiles says, making an exaggerated motion of stroking his chin. “I reckon Boyd could be the hero.”

 

Stiles throws an arm around Boyd’s shoulders.

 

“You’ve got that whole Luke Cage vibe,” Stiles states, grinning. Boyd’s wolf practically skips with glee, eager to force Boyd into scenting Stiles’ neck.

 

Boyd refrains.

 

“Only if you’ll be Jessica Jones,” Boyd deadpans. He keeps his face and voice neutral, refusing to let his crush bleed through.

 

“Well,” Stiles says, “That’s Halloween sorted.”

 

“If Boyd and Stiles are the superhero couple, what does that make us?” Erica asks, nudging Isaac in the ribs with her elbow.

 

“Dead if you don’t pay attention,” Derek growls but there’s a soft edge to it. Exasperated fondness. Stiles lets go of Boyd. The wolf whines at the loss of contact.

 

Boyd is not a possessive by nature. Younger siblings taught him the discipline of sharing. His mother taught him that people are their own, nobody can own another person. And high school taught him you cannot force people to like you.

 

The wolf is possessive. The wolf wants to chase Stiles through the woods, pin him down in the dirt and bathe in his sugar sweet caramel scent. The wolf wants to make Stiles happy; wants to provide for him. Provide comfort, stability, sexual gratification. Boyd has spent a lot of late nights and early mornings thinking about providing Stiles with sexual gratification.

 

He’s not quite sure when he fell in love with Stiles. It’s not something he expected, it just hit him one day.

 

He was sitting at the island in Derek’s kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee and listening to Peter and Stiles making plans to take out the witch that was draining kids of energy. Stiles was laughing at something Peter had said, that whole body laugh he does. Stiles is constantly in motion, a wild, untamable energy. Sometimes Boyd wonders what he’d be like as a wolf, whether that energy would be controlled or even wilder. Boyd had smiled fondly at Stiles and it hit him.

 

At first, Boyd freaked out. Not because he fancied Stiles or the fact that he fancied a guy. Stiles is the talker, speaking to fill silences, speaking with purpose and without. Boyd is quiet, picks his words carefully. Boyd isn’t a man of many words and isn’t sure how to articulate his feelings in a way that Stiles would truly understand

 

A hush falls over the clearing, a strange silence that was chilling. Boyd pulls Stiles behind him, his first instinct to protect. His second is to listen to his alpha.

 

“They’re coming,” Derek growls, eyes glowing. Boyd’s fangs drop, his claws extending.

 

The hunters tense, looking to Chris Argent for guidance. Some keep looking at Derek, fingers on the trigger like they want to be shooting the alpha instead of the three fae that have emerged from the tree line.

 

The fae are beautiful in a cruel and haunting way. They are sharp angles like they’re made of cut glass. The leader is whiter than freshly fallen snow, hair like spun gold and electric blue eyes. The one to the left of the leader has skin like tree bark, flowers woven into moss like hair. The one to the right has its rib cage on display, ribbons tied around each rib. It’s hard to discern a gender, all the fae are androgynous.

 

“Hello, I am Caoimhe” The leader says, voice like wind chimes in a hurricane. “We come to negotiate to stay for the summer solstice. I wish to speak to the alpha and the lead hunter.”

 

Chris and Derek step forward. Caoimhe smiles, teeth neater than a military cemetery.

 

“Let us converse,” Caoimhe says, putting out a hand. A table made of oak rises from the ground, chairs made of thick vines forming in minutes. Derek and Chris take a seat and discussions begin.

 

Caoimhe, Derek and Chris seem to be a in a bubble, no sound emits from the table and apparently no sound can travel in. After a few minutes, Stiles flops down on the ground, evidently bored.

 

The fae with moss hair glides over, eyes the color of wolfsbane. Boyd keeps his fangs in check, wouldn’t want to destroy negotiations because this fae makes him feel nervous.

 

“I am Caiside,” the fae says, addressing Stiles and ignoring Boyd, “May I sit?”

 

“Sure man,” Stiles says, patting the ground. Boyd sits at the same time as Caiside, eyes tracking the fae’s every movement. The wolf perceives a threat, coiled waiting to spring.

 

“You are beautiful,” Caiside says bluntly. Stiles cheeks flush. Boyd makes a fist, claws digging into the palm of his hand.

 

“I umm… thank you?”

 

“Those eyes,” Caiside continues, “A color I have never seen in nature. So exquisite. If we are permitted to stay, you must come to our solstice festivities. We must dance together.”

 

Boyd’s wolf won’t let that happen.

 

//

 

“You punched a fae in the face because he asked me out,” Stiles states. Boyd glowers, his hand in a bowl of ice water. Turns out it takes a while to heal from a punching a fae. His knuckles are bruised.

 

“Yes,” Boyd mutters. It wasn’t his proudest moment. Luckily Caoimhe had been amused by the proceedings, eyes twinkling at Boyd.

 

“You’re absolutely hopeless,” Stiles says. He leans down, tilting Boyd’s head up with his nimble fingers. He presses his lips to Boyd’s mouth, a sweet, chaste kiss. The wolf rises up, fiercely happy. _Minemineminemateminematematehappymate._

Boyd pulls Stiles into his lap, hands tracing over Stiles body. Stiles hums happily, teeth nipping at Boyd’s bottom lip playfully. Boyd growls, pressing Stiles closer to him.

 

“Dinner?” Stiles asks, breathless, pupils blown wide.

 

“Later,” Boyd replies, presses kisses on the taunt stretch of Stiles neck, breathing in Stiles sugary sweet scent.

 

“Oh god yeah later,” Stiles agrees.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr - can't guarantee it won't amaze you](http://ladypigswagon.tumblr.com)


End file.
